Options and Opportunities
by DRACON1US
Summary: What if Draco had just five more minutes to make his decision on the tower with Dumbledore? Would he take his one opportunity to escape the life he was forced to live? Story starts with Draco being given his Task by the Dark Lord. Draco-centric fic
1. Chapter 1

**Otpions and Opportunities**

**Chapter 1**

"We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but battle on."

-Albus Dumbledore

* * *

Draco woke up that morning with a feeling of foreboding. It didn't take him long to remember why. He kept his eyes shut as the sunshine shone through the white curtains around his bed. He didn't want to get up… he didn't want to face the day. Any sane person in his position would be out of bed in a heartbeat, enjoying life, saying goodbye to his relatives perhaps or eating as many of his favorite foods as he could… but Draco wanted nothing more than to fall asleep again and forget it all. Even more so, he wished it was over with. All the fear and anticipation and tears were just getting to be too much. He had considered running, disappearing… but that would only be a temporary solution. They would just kill his mother and hunt him down to his dying day.

But he had finally come to the conclusion that there was no way around it, the most he could hope for was that it would be quick and that they would spare his mother. He wasn't being brave, he just recognized that he had no choice… no more options.

With some difficulty he convinced himself to get up. He sat up, blinked blearily in the light and got out of bed. He went to his bathroom, slipped off his blue silk boxers and stepped into his shower. Draco turned the knobs so that it was the hottest it could go and stepped into the scorching water coming out of the mouth of an ornate carved Dragon hanging from the ceiling by its tail. Within seconds it turned his pale skin bright pink and he felt oddly relieved as the water burned.

He took the time to use every exotic product in the shower, a luxury he usually denied himself in an effort to smell slightly masculine. But he didn't care about that today, he wanted to spend as much time in solitude as he could before he had to go and face his mother. He stayed in the shower for another ten minutes after he was finished washing, closing his eyes and letting the water run down his face.

Reluctantly he got out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel with the Malfoy crest embroidered in purple and black, the family colors, and went to his walk-in closet to pick out some clothing. He ignored the right half of it where his suits were hung, crisp and clean, over his folded jeans and sweaters. He doubted very much that he would gain any more favor with The Dark Lord by showing up in muggle clothing. So instead he went straight to the left side of his closet where his wizarding robes were hung.

He passed over a set after set of robes in the most expensive fabrics and colors (midnight blue, deepest green, blood red, pale grey) but in the end he picked up his best set of black robes (a silky material with silver embroidery around the sleeves and hem) and returned to his room to get dressed, taking his time in everything he did.

When he had worn out every reason for to stall in his room he finally left, but not before he noticed his father's walking stick leaning against the wall in an empty corner of his room. The sight made him sad… but a little angry too. Ever since his father had been sent to Azkaban it was like a shadow had fallen on the manor. Lucius' absence left a void in the house that was filled with his mother's constant tears and Bellatrix's presence which became more and more irritating by the day.

He was angry with his father and had been for a while now, even before he had been caught at the ministry. Draco had accepted along time ago that the life his father had chosen only served to tear the family apart. He remembered the days before the Dark Lord's return when his family was happy, healthy and safe. Draco obviously didn't remember the first time the Dark Lord had come to power, he was only a baby when he had vanished. But he did remember just how much his life had changed after the Dark Lord's return, especially those first few terrifying days when he had to stay caged in at Hogwarts.

He remembered the whispers about the Dark Lord's return… he remembered staying up late with Crabbe and Goyle wondering whether their fathers were alive after they had abandoned their master (they didn't dare write about such things by owl)… he remembered many a sleepless night in his dormitory, itching to get home to make sure his family was alright.

When he finally did get home a few days after the incident at the triwizard tournament everything was different. It seemed like the air was constantly buzzing with fear and anticipation in the manor. He had once thought himself lucky that he had parents who got along and loved each other, but after His return everything fell to pieces. He could hear his parents screaming at each other late into the night… always the same argument.

"_Can't you see what you've done to our family?" _she would scream, "_To your only son? He has no options now and it's because of you!"_

He felt guilty, but he couldn't help but agree with her now… especially with the current circumstances.

Everytime he saw his father grab his left arm in pain before he disappeared into the fireplace without another word, Draco was stricken with fear. His father disappeared periodically, to return, sometimes in perfect health… other times nearly unconscious from torture. He slowly began to grasp just how much danger his father was in, and how much danger he brought into their house, by being a deatheater. And without his noticing the bitterness began to well up in the back of his brain.

He began to wonder how many people his father had killed, how many innocents he had watched die, how many gruesome acts he had allowed to happen. It was sickening… Draco remembered when the life of a Deatheater seemed like a fantasy, his dream life. Working for a great man who stood for keeping magical blood within the proper veins and helping him do it seemed like the ideal way of living. But things change, people change… and Draco hadn't felt that way for a long time.

He was walking through the vast halls in his home without his usual swagger, drinking it all in, this may be the last time he sees it after all. As arrogant as he was, he had never failed to appreciate how remarkably lovely his home was. The marble floors made his footsteps echo throughout the vast mansion, he remembered how when he was younger he couldn't get away with any mischief around the house because of that. The tapestries that hung from the walls showing scenes from wizarding history had been a neverending source for his overreactive imagination. The library which seemed to be an endless maze of bookshelves had always served better as a place to hide when he was playing with his mother rather than a quiet place to read, though he had done plenty of that as well.

He was about to open the door to their dining room to have breakfast when he froze, his hand on the knob, at the sound of hushed voices. It wasn't the first time Draco had overheard them talking to each other in private, hoping they wouldn't be overheard by the topic of their discussion… as if he didn't already know.

"He hasn't told you anything Bella? Nothing at all?" his mother was saying in a whisper. Draco could tell by the way her voice wavered that she was crying… again. He shut his eyes and sighed, sadness consuming him. He hated what this was doing to his mother, and he couldn't help but blame his father.

"I've told you Cissy, he hasn't told me a thing," her voice was colder, harsher. "You forget that I as well have suffered his displeasure, though I'm sure his anger with me is incomparable with his anger for Lucius."

Narcissa bit back a sob at this, "Don't say such things… I'm scared enough as it is." Bellatrix didn't respond. "You don't think he'll do it Bellatrix, he won't…. he couldn't…. he's so young…"

"I've no idea what the The Dark Lord would or wouldn't do. All that I know is that whatever he has decided it is the right decision and that it's not our place to question it," Narcissa let out a sob that made Draco's heart ache, if there was one thing he regretted most in this whole situation, it was what his mother would have to deal with if her son was dead and her husband was in Azkaban.

"How can you say that?!" her voice was now hysterically high trying desperately to keep her voice even. "Your own nephew!" And she fell into a fit of crying, her stifled sobs just loud enough for Draco to hear.

Draco listened, his forehead against the cool mahogany of the door wishing that he could do something… anything to comfort her. But there was nothing. Soon her sobs turned into quiet sniffles and Draco felt it was safe to enter. He opened the door to see Bellatrix playing with her water glass looking inpatient and his mother crying into her napkin. When she spotted him she hastily wiped away her tears and gave him a watery smile.

"Good morning mum," he said quietly, "Aunt Bellatrix," he added as an afterthought. If he weren't so annoyed with her indifference to his mother's depression he would have called her Aunt Bells like he once did. He quickly kissed Bella who smiled at him. Then he went to his mother and kissed her forehead. He held it longer than he normally would have and a fresh wave of silent tears began to stream down her face.

"Please don't cry anymore mum," he said quietly. In the last few weeks his mother had been close to tears most of the time, but this new found hysteria was only since Bella had come home a few nights before with a somber face telling Draco and his mother that the Dark Lord demanded a private meeting with him. And she had only left the house since then to do his bidding.

He went to take his seat across from Bellatrix when she held up a hand to stop him. "Draco, why don't you sit at the head of the table?" she asked with an unreadable expression on her face.

He was taken aback. He glanced quickly at the larger chair to his right, the chair that they had left empty since his father had left. "I've always sat here," he said and began to sit down in his normal seat. Not sure at all what his Aunt meant by this question.

She looked at him, with an odd smile. "Now that you're father's left, it's your job to take his place. Sit at the head of the table Draco," she said softly, but she made it clear that this time it was an order.

He was bewildered and annoyed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to tell a man what to do in his own home," he asked, the anger evident under his calm tone.

She smiled at him, "Man? I was under the impression I was speaking to a boy," his eyes lit up with anger at this and she continued, "and if this really is your own home then take the place of honor." He glared at her for a moment. This was completely bizarre and had it not been for the fact that his mother would hate for him and her sister to get in a fight today he would have held strong and refused. But seeing as his mother was looking from one to the other a look of confusion and worry on her face he slowly rose and walked the few feet to his father's chair.

He hesitated, his hand on the back of it, then finally pulled it out and sat down. It was acutely bizarre to sit there looking across the table at his mother… the room looked completely different from this seat. He saw that his mother was looking at him with a strange mix of pride and sadness. But all he felt was bitterness that he was sitting in the seat of the man who caused all of this.

Bellatrix smiled one of those smiles that instead of making her look pleased made her look slightly mad. "That seems more appropriate," she said and winked at Draco. He didn't know what to make of this so he just began to eat the plate of food that had just been placed in front of him by a house-elf.

"I've always loved those robes Draco," she said still smiling that smile. He was shocked that she could be so casual when there was a good chance that this would be one of the last meals they ever ate together.

"Thanks," he said. The stark contrast between his Aunt's casual attitude and his mother's desperate sadness was only made stranger by his indifference. Whether or not it was just because things hadn't sunk in yet, he didn't feel afraid. Resigned? Yes. Nervous? A little. But what he felt most was disappointment. He had had wanted to do something with his life…

It was then that he remembered that he was a Malfoy… Son of Lucius… there were no options, just one. And that one option repulsed him more and more everyday… and for one morbid moment he was almost relieved that he wouldn't have to face all of the shame and regret that would come with the life he surely would have had to live as a Deatheater.

_Chapter 2_

_ "Draco, Draco, Draco," said Lord Voldemort shaking his head with a cruel smile on his face. "What are we going to do with you and your darling mother?" he asked looking down at the boy at his feet._

* * *

**_a/n: I saw the 6th movie and was thoroughly blown away by Tom Felton's performance and just had to write a good!Draco fic. Cheesy? Maybe... I'm over it. Sorry about this chapter being boring, you need to get the backstory in there sometime. I'm not entirely sure I'll continue with this story only because I have alot of stuff to do this summer. But if I get some good feedback I'll keep it up. Next chapter is gonna be the meeting with Voldy, so if I write it that should be a little more interesting than this chapter._**

**_Review please : ]_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Options and Opportunites**

**Chapter 2**

"Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them."

-Albus Dumbledore

* * *

"Draco, Draco, Draco," said the Dark Lord shaking his head with a cruel smile on his face. "What are we going to do with you and your darling mother?" he asked looking down at the boy at his feet.

They were sitting in a decently large room with yellowing wallpaper. The walls were covered in dusty photographs and the air had that distinct stale smell of a neglected home. This was the house of a recently deceased muggle widow. The couches and chairs in the sitting room had been moved so that they made a sort of semi-circle centered around a high chair where the man speaking sat. His and the boy's were the only faces visible. So much for a private meeting… Draco had really hoped that his death wouldn't be so public, it was humiliating. But he remained silent, never looking up. The Dark Lord continued to survey the boy, "This is only our third meeting is it not?"

"Yes," he said quietly, "… my lord" he added hastily.

His smile faded slightly, "Though, I believe, this is our first encounter since your family has been disgraced."

The gaggle of people in the room began to chuckle darkly and Draco's pale face flushed just slightly unseen in the dim light, but the Dark Lord raised his hand and they all fell silent. The quiet in the room while The Dark Lord cocked his head observing Draco Malfoy was unnerving.

He took his time in ending the silence, but when he finally did his voice held the same casual indifferent tone. "Your father has made some very grave mistakes these past few years... I'm beginning to wonder whether a Malfoy is worth anything these days," he said.

Draco shook his head just a fraction of an inch to either side. Being generalized as 'a Malfoy' stung… a small part of him agreed on the part of his father, to Draco at least Lucius Malfoy was worth nothing, but he knew he wasn't the same. The Dark Lord's smile grew though it didn't reach his eyes and Draco became acutely aware that the Dark Lord was hearing his thoughts as if they were spoken out loud. "I take it you disagree?" Draco didn't respond. The whole room was waiting with baited breath to see what the Dark Lord would do. Almost every one of them assumed that this would be the boy's death, save for one who was smiling to herself. To them this was the humiliating end that he deserved: to die in front of all the people who had come to know his father as a fool. So it came as no small shock when they heard the Dark Lord's next words.

"Would you like to prove it?" Draco's eyes widened, but he still looked at the floor, refusing to look at that face.

"Y-Yes my Lord, how?" Draco said.

"Would you say that you are loyal to me Draco?" said Lord Voldemort.

"Of course my lord," he said confidently, but even as he said it there was a tiny part of him that questioned that. And with full knowledge that the Dark Lord could read each and every one of his thoughts he recognized that he wasn't sure whether he was loyal to the man before him. And he looked up, for the first time at the Dark Lord who was smiling at him. He knew… of course he knew… and with that the tiny bit of hope he had allowed himself a moment ago was torn away. Surely, He wouldn't allow the son of a failure who didn't support his efforts live.

"So loyal that you'd like to join my inner circle? Take the place of your father and stand beside me?" he asked smiling all along. There were gasps and mutterings from all the hooded figures but when the Dark Lord raised his eyes to look at the other followers, clearly offended at their questioning his choice, they fell silent immediately. Draco's eyes were wide with amazement; he looked to his left to see Bellatrix wearing a satisfied smile, no look of shock or surprise on her face. Now Draco understood what she had meant this morning. What was it she had said?

"_Now that you're father's left, it's your job to take his place."_

And even before that, _"All that I know is that whatever he has decided it is the right decision and that it's not our place to question it." _Of course, she had known how much his mother would loathe this.

But despite the building elation that he would be able to live, he didn't understand… what would make The Dark Lord take an underage 16 year old boy, who was the son of the man who had unintentionally thwarted his plans on more than one occasion, as a Death Eater? It didn't make sense. He was no use for such a person as Draco. And on top of that, he must know all of Draco's doubts about this life and the Dark Arts. Hadn't he just acknowledged that the Dark Lord knew exactly his thoughts on the matter? What could compel him to do this?

He simply couldn't come up with an answer and instead the Dark Lord broke the silence in the room, "Perhaps I should speak to Draco alone he said." And his smile had faded, his eyes never leaving the boy in front of him as the rest of the room stood and left without another word.

"Why so hesitant Draco?" he asked, though his voice was knowing.

Draco was beginning to wrap his head around the concept and finally was able to speak, "It's not that I'm hesitant my lord, only excited by the prospect of serving you fully." The lie came easily. Maybe it was easier to lie through your teeth when you knew that the person you were talking to already knew your true feelings.

"I sense you're not entirely truthful Draco," he said. Draco didn't bother to contradict him, it's not like he could convince him otherwise. But the Dark Lord didn't seem offended or upset, more amused. "Tell me, do you value your life Draco?" he asked.

Draco had to think about the question. He had an inkling of where this was going. After a moments pause he said, "To some extent."

The Dark Lord smiled again, "And your mother's… do you value your mother's life?" He said it so lightly, but with a sort of tone that made it blatantly clear that he knew exactly the answer to the question and just how significant the implications were to his subject.

The calm he had managed since the beginning of this meeting began to ebb away as fear began to gnaw at his insides. "Yes, very much so," Draco said quietly.

The Dark Lord only smiled wider at this. "Then I will ask you one last time, would you like to join me?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Draco's mind worked furiously trying to think of some alternative, something he could offer in return for his mother's life… but there was nothing. In order to save his own skin and his mother's he had to do this, because there were no more options.

He felt childish for thinking it but this was so _unfair!_ Why did he have to be put in this situation again and again? Why couldn't he choose his future? Why was he forced to carry in the footsteps of a father who hadn't earned an ounce of respect from his son? It just wasn't fair! And he could tell that the man before him was enjoying this… he was making him suffer because he loved his family. For one horrifying moment he thought he might cry, but he fought the urge.

And he said the only thing he could say, "It would be my honor to serve you, my lord." His voice was barely audible it was shaking so hard.

"I was hoping you would say that," he said. "Rise," Draco obeyed, "Give me your arm," he said. And he raised his shaking arm up to his master. "Step closer Draco," he said, and Draco took two steps forward so that there was no more than 2 feet of room between them.

The Dark Lord took his arm in one of his cold hands and Draco felt all hope vanish as he felt the wand tip touch his forearm. White hot pain spread through his arm for a moment as what looked like black smoke billowed out on his skin from the wand tip and slowly took the form of the Dark Mark. He let go of his arm and stepped back, as if to get a good look at him.

Draco stared at it, disgusted. The anger and frustration threatened to consume him. He didn't know if he could face the truth. Only a few short minutes ago he had been content to face his death. But now he stood before the Dark Lord with that hideous serpent on his arm, permanently branded as a servant of Lord Voldemort.

"You say you are loyal to me Draco?" he asked again, all the previous amusement drained from his face.

The question seemed to be so much more difficult to answer this time, and he felt sure that the he knew the answer to the question this time, but of course he couldn't say the truth. "Yes, my lord," he said, his voice so quiet he wondered whether the man in front of him had actually heard it.

The Dark Lord didn't seem so amused by the boy's pain anymore. "You see, I have a task that needs to be carried out. And I believe that you may be the person to do it," he said. "If you succeed in this task, I believe you would make up for any mistakes your father has made, and you would be doing me a great service."

Draco didn't respond again, but looked up, his face a mix of curiosity and fear.

"What I wish of you to do," the Dark Lord said holding Draco's gaze steady, "is kill Albus Dumbledore."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did Draco's eyes widened in shock and fear. For a moment he was speechless… But when he finally did find his tongue the words began to fall out without his control, "You want me to _kill_ him? Me: Draco Malfoy, kill Albus Dumbledore? By myself? But that would be im-"

"Impossible?" the Dark Lord spoke the word for him, his voice dangerously quiet. "I would think a boy in your position would be willing to do anything to regain his family's honor. But, if I misunderstood your loyalty then I can find someone else for the job. Perhaps the Malfoys are as pathetic as I thought, and if that is the case I see no need for their further presence."

Draco understood the significance of these words immediately. "N-no my Lord," his voice was a strange mix of terror and forced calm that made him sound slightly deranged. "What I should have- What I mean to say is that I would be happy- no honored- to carry out your command."

The Dark Lord smiled at the boy and began to speak again, "Good. Just like your father you are willing to do whatever I command," and for one wild moment the comparison made him want to hit the man in front of him. "He was after all, a good servant most of the time."

The Dark Lord paused, relishing the reaction he had created. If there ever was a boy who didn't know his own feelings, it was the one in front of him. Then with a dark smile he said, "But even a good servant needs punishment sometimes you know. And I never got to see your father before he was locked up. Pity really…" he said his voice growing softer with every word. Draco felt the fear bubble up within him once more. "Have you ever experienced the Cruciatus curse Draco?"

He shook his head, although it was more of a spasm. There was no denying the terror in Draco's eyes. But the Dark Lord did respect just how calm the boy sounded when he spoke. "Never," he said.

"I want you to be familiar with it for two reasons: one, with your father unavailable you will face the retribution for his actions," Draco nodded his head; he had expected this of course, only worse. After all he had been fairly certain that this meeting would be the end of his insignificant existence. The Dark Lord continued, "and second, I'd like you to know exactly what your mother will feel every time you make the slightest mistake in the task I have given you."

At this Draco's head shot up to stare into that putrid face. Again it was his mother's wellbeing that would be his motivation to live… and again that frustration at the injustice of the whole scenario welled up within him. Then, suddenly he realized the man's reason's for doing all of this. Draco and his mother would come to the same end, just a matter of when and how. And since they'd die anyways why not watch the boy try desperately to save his family?

The man in front of him was using him as a puppet for nothing more than his own entertainment. The Dark Lord knew perfectly well there was no way that he was going to be able to carry out this task, but he would make him try in vain for him and his family.

He wanted nothing more than to scream 'no' over and over again. But what he actually did was nod his head slowly, staring at his feet.

"Good then," he braced himself for the curse, "_Crucio!" _

The pain was worse than he had ever imagined. His vision went fuzzy and he lost all sense of time and place. He felt as if his insides were being torn to shreds while simultaneously an intense feeling of despair filled up every inch of his body. But he refused to shout out, not entirely sure why, but there was a part of him that was urging him not to scream. He didn't know how long it had lasted but the pain to last an eternity. This was infinitely worse than he had ever felt. And then it was over…

Slowly, he became aware of is surroundings again. He was on his back, looking up at a chandelier that was missing half of its crystals. He slowly sat up, but it hurt his entire being… like every muscle in his body was sore from exercise.

"What a brave boy you are Draco?" the Dark Lord said looking at his victim curiously. "Perhaps, not as much like your father as I had thought…" For a moment the comment made him furious, but more out of habit then out of true feelings. "You may leave… wait with the other Death Eaters. I'd like to speak to Bellatrix alone,"

Draco stepped out into the hall, trying to hide any hint that he had suffered the Cruciatus Curse. The group in the hall way looked up when he exited.

"He'd like to speak to you Bella," Draco said. The smile that graced her face was more loving than anything _he _had ever received being her nephew. She walked past him into the room and closed the door behind her.

The group in front of him was so familiar to Draco and it made him really appreciate how much of an integral part of his life the Death Eaters had always been. More so now than ever, he supposed. He knew every one of them by face and most by name. These men and women had sat at his dinner table, talking about the old days, dozens of times. They all attended dinner parties that were held at the manor constantly. And still Draco felt incredibly out of place. He could tell by the size of the group and the people in it that this was the Dark Lord's most faithful servants. Was he a part of that now? More importantly did he want to be?

It was Crabbe's father who approached him first, "Did he do it?"

Draco didn't need clarification to know what he was talking about. He pulled up his left sleeve and showed him the dark mark. The rest of the room was staring as well, some looked only shocked, others angry. But after the muttering died down they all resumed their little conversations in groups of two or three, ignoring their newest cohort.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He was leaning against a wall, looking at his feet, fighting the urge to cry. The fact that he was taking his father's place in anything alone was enough to tear him up… but to become a death eater and fight for a cause that he no longer believed in at the risk of his life and the lives of those he loved? That was just sick… and the fact that the task he was given was impossible and that all the things he had forestalled by becoming a death eater would only be made real as soon as he failed? It only made it clearer that this was all a game to Him... a sick, twisted game. Draco was nothing more than a human experiment for the entertainment of a sadistic bastard.

And more than ever, Draco appreciated how wrong it all was.

_Chapter 3_

_"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."_

* * *

**_a/n: Hope this was a little more interesting. Thanks for the reviews! And I meant to explain earlier that the Draco in this fic is definetly more good than canon Draco. But that's why it's fanfiction right? Anyways, this'll be the last of the chapters before we get to 'The Lighting Struck Tower' scene which should be good (I hope?)._**

**_Review and I'll write faster :] (I'm not below bribery)_**

**_And do be patient with me in the next chapter, it will be word for word from the book for a while._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Options and Opportunities**

**Chapter 3**

"You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be."

-Albus Dumbledore

* * *

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"_My_ options!" said Malfoy loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand- I'm about to kill you-"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" said Malfoy, and he was suddenly white as Dumbledore. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."

Malfoy winced at the sound of the name.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you," continued Dumbledore. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other…. No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived…. I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"He cannot kill you if you are already dead. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hid you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Nobody would be surprised that you had died in your attempt to kill me- forgive me, but Lord Voldemort probably expects it. Nor would the Death Eaters be surprised that we had captured and killed your mother- it is what they would do themselves, after all. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban…. When the time comes we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer…."

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power…. I'm the one with the wand…. You're at my mercy…."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand hand still trembling. Harry thought he saw it drop by a fraction. This could be his one chance to escape… but at what expense? Did he really have a choice? Would he honestly turn his back on his family, his whole life, for freedom?

"You assume that I want a different life… what if I don't want that? What if I want to be a Death Eater?" he tried to speak with conviction but even Harry could hear the doubt in his voice.

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses at the boy in front of him, "Draco, if you truly want to be a Death Eater, then by all means, do it…. Kill me and take your glory. But if you think what you've witnessed this past year is wrong, if you believe that you have faced a great deal of injustice in your life at the hands of your 'Lord', then I offer you an opportunity to change, to lead a different life… a good life. Not the life of your father and your aunt, but one of morality and humanity."

It was more than he could have ever asked for… the generosity of the man he had loathed for so long shocked him. Hadn't he been wanting an out for a year now? An opportunity like this would never come again… the significance of this choice was pressing in on him and he found it impossible to think straight.

"But my mother, Bella, my father," his voice cracked on the last word. The look of pity and sadness on Dumbledore's face was what grounded him… this crazy old man genuinely cared about him despite his attempts to kill him, despite his father's past, despite that ugly mark on his arm. But still, could he drop every ounce of loyalty he had for this man's pity? "They would be so ashamed of me…" and to Draco's horror he realized he was crying.

Dumbledore just looked at him sadly, "You are a victim of circumstance Draco… No matter what you choose it will be impossibly difficult. Abandon your family, or abandon your morals," the silent tears continued to slide down his face, "But think about what _you _want Draco. I doubt very much that you will ever get this chance again and I do not want you to regret your decision, either way you choose. So I ask you, what kind of life do _you _want to live? And are you willing to sacrifice that life for a tradition that you could never control?"

And there was no mistaking it this time; Draco's wand dropped at least a foot. At first he thought that he didn't know the answer to this question, but every second he became more sure of what he wanted to do.

But there was one thing that he wasn't sure he could face, "But if I choose to go with you, everyone will hate me. The Order, the Death Eaters… everyone. I'll be a complete outcast," he said. And Harry's pity was real this time… he truly did feel terribly for the boy in front of him who had been forced into this life.

"I think, you will find that we are a more forgiving bunch than the people you've been forced to consort with…" Dumbledore said with a hint of a smile on his still sad face.

Draco was thinking furiously… he knew what he wanted to do. And he realized he had known for a long time now. But he kept on picturing his father's anger, his mother's disappointment and what he was sure would be pure hatred on Bellatrix's part when they would find out what he was considering doing. But weren't those the exact things he'd been trying to escape? That necessity of doing his family's bidding? The more he thought, the more certain he was that there was really only one choice. But then a sudden thought occurred to him.

"How do I know…. How do I know you're not just going to kill me the moment I agree," asked Malfoy his voice shaking.

Dumbledore smiled a real genuine smile. "You forget Draco, that we are not the villains in this story."

And that's what got him... any doubts he had had a moment ago suddenly vanished with that one comment.

When he finally found his voice he said, "A-Alright, I'll do it."

Dumbledore let out a sigh of pure content and held out his hand for his wand. Draco hesitated for just a moment, but then he slowly held out Dumbledore's wand and the old man took it. And at that very moment when both hands were on the wand the door behind them flew open with a bang. Bellatrix, Fenrir Greyback and two other figures stood silhouetted in the doorway. But with the agility of a practiced wizard Dumbledore created a shield charm so strong that it actually shook the air surrounding them and a glimmering wall, like living glass grew between the two groups.

"I'LL KILL HIM!" shouted Bellatrix but her voice sounded very faint like it was an echo. The pure fury on her face was terrifying.

With a flick of his wand Harry felt himself regain control of his limbs and he threw off his cloak. Malfoy gasped but didn't have time to dwell on the surprise. "Listen to me very carefully Draco, 12 Grimmauld Place, that is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Say it back to me, 12 Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said in a rushed whisper.

"12 Grimmauld Place," Draco said back, the fear evident on his face.

"Harry, I'm going to block some of the protective charms on this tower so you and Draco can apparate there. It would be better for him to apparate side-along with you seeing as he's never been there. Wait for my, signal," Dumbledore said.

"Alright Professor," Harry said.

"Good, now take Harry's arm Draco and you'll apparate there immediately, you understand me?" he asked.

"Wait! My mother!" Draco blurted out, "Send someone to get her now, before they send a message to Him!" He glanced frightened at the group shooting curse after curse at the inpentrable wall, and Draco looked truly frightened at the prospect.

Without hesitation Dumbledore raised his wand and a silver phoenix flew out into the night. "She will be safe, I promise you," he said gently.

Then Draco nodded and reluctantly took Harry's arm which he was holding out. Dumbledore moved his wand in quick complicated motions and he nodded to Harry. He turned on the spot and they felt the uncomfortable pressure on all sides as they disappeared into nothingness.

The both of them collapsed in the street in front of the house, Harry gasping for air. He doubted he would ever learn to enjoy that form of transportation. Draco still looked shell-shocked as if he still couldn't believe what he had just done.

"Come on, hurry in case we were followed," said Harry, finding it very bizarre to speak to Malfoy with anything but contempt.

Draco obeyed and they both walked to the door of the house. Harry took out his wand and tapped the door, hearing metal scraping against metal as the numerous complicated locks undid themselves. They stepped into the semi-dark of the front hallway.

"Where are- " Draco began to ask but Harry quieted him by putting a finger to his lips. He jerked his head down the hall to where the kitchen was and the two boys walked in.

The house reminded him so much of Sirius… he half expected him to bound into the kitchen with a smile on his handsome face, greeting the two of them. "Sorry," said Harry coming out of his thoughts, "What were you saying in the hall?" Harry had pulled out two Butterbeers from a cabinet and with a tap of his wand they warmed up nicely.

Draco felt so thoroughly uncomfortable in this situation that he almost forgot how terrified he was for his mother or how ashamed his entire family would be of him. Because for that moment, there was nothing more strange then standing in the kitchen of this bizarre home, being handed a butterbeer by Harry Potter after having given up the opportunity to kill the greatest wizard of all time and replace Snape as the most beloved Death Eater.

"What is this place?" Draco said, taking the butterbeer reluctantly. "Thanks," he added hastily holding up his butterbeer.

Harry smiled tentatively for a moment after getting over the shock of being thanked by a Malfoy. "The House of Black."

Draco looked up surprised after taking a sip of butterbeer that warmed his belly. "The Blacks?" he asked, "Like Regulus? And Sirius?" And Draco was forcibly reminded of what happened to Regulus when he turned his back on Lord Voldemort. Regulus was always spoken of with disgust by his father and his friends.

"Yeah, Sirius gave it to us as Headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix," Harry said, a little surprised that he had referenced Regulus before Sirius, seeing as Sirius Black had been a renowned murderer.

Draco nodded, not looking at Harry. Surely he was just as awkward being forced into this situation. "I'm related to them you know… they're like my second cousins once removed or something like that…" Draco said and immediately felt stupid for it. Why had he said that? Harry nodded once and smiled that awkward unsure smile again.

But slowly, the truth began to set in. And Draco felt his stomach begin to churn as the significance of what he had just done hit him. He thought that the little butterbeer he had drank was threatening to make a reappearance as he felt hsi stomach tense. Slowly a crease began to grow between his eye brows and his eyes began to sting. This was beyond embarrassing; he was not going to cry in front of Harry Potter. But that seemed so inconsequential at the moment as compared to what he had just done. He felt so thoroughly alone… and the thought put a lump in his throat.

"Bathroom?" he asked, trying desperately to act casual, but the look of pity on Harry's face told him he was failing miserably.

"Yeah, it's upstairs on the first landing. But you have to be quiet so you don't wake up Sirius' mum's portrait… although I suppose she would love you," Harry said. Draco didn't bother to ask Harry to explain the bizarre instructions and instead left the room as quickly as he could. He rushed through the halls, took the stairs two at a time and managed to find the bathroom on his second try. The moment he was in the door he leaned against the wall and let the tears fall… and fall they did. Slowly he slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his head in his hands as he tried to stifle his sobs.

* * *

At this point, Harry had absolutely no idea what to do. He wanted to do something, comfort him? The idea was laughable. He wanted nothing more than to be back at Hogwarts and in separate common rooms from the boy who was crying in the bathroom but he obviously couldn't leave until Dumbledore came and told them what to do.

But some small part of him did feel indebted to him. And, despite all his prior knowledge of Draco Malfoy, he did think that Draco did this act out of something more than fear. He remembered seeing the white-faced Malfoy stalking through the halls, crying in the bathroom… it wasn't just a whim that had made him do this. He must have been questioning this for a while now.

So he sat there, waiting for his nemesis, sipping butterbeer. After about ten minutes, Malfoy returned looking like hell. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face was pink where he had scrubbed off his tears.

Suddenly Harry felt the need to tell him how grateful he was, how much it meant to him that he had given up everything he had fought for to do the right thing. The full significance of what Malfoy had done hit him. He had turned his back on his family, his beliefs, his entire life… so he wouldn't become a murderer.

"Thanks," Harry finally blurted out after what felt like an eternity.

Draco looked up from the spot on the table he had been staring at for some time now, his butterbeer forgotten, "For what?" he asked.

"For sparing him," Harry said. "It was really… brave," he said at last.

Malfoy let out a harsh laugh, "Brave? Not confusing me for a Gryffindor are you?"

Harry smiled weakly, and then a sudden thought struck him. "You know the sorting hat almost put me in Slytherin," he said suddenly. And he reddened feeling slightly ridiculous talking about this with Draco Malfoy.

Draco did something with his mouth that could be taken as a sneer or a smile, "I don't believe it."

"No, it's true," Harry said, latching onto the only available conversation. He wanted to distract him and this was much preferable to silence. "It told me that Slytherin would help me 'on the path of greatness' or something like that… and it probably would have put me in Slytherin if…" suddenly he felt awkward. Did he want to tell a Slytherin that he had begged to be in anything but Slytherin?

After a moment Draco asked "If what?" looking curious.

"If I hadn't asked not to be," Harry said finally. Malfoy didn't respond at first and Harry was suddenly extremely self-concious. Had he offended him already? within five minutes of their being on the same side? And then the idea that he was worried about offending Malfoy almost made him laugh. But this was clearly not the time.

There was a long pause before Draco finally asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Harry felt truly embarrassed now. He shrugged, "I guess I'm just saying that not everything's black and white, you know?"

He did know. Being raised by a Death Eater and being forced to do a task that disgusted him at the threat of his and his mothers life had taught him that. Harry was looking at him, looking nervous. _Of course, Perfect Potter thinks he's said something stupid, _Draco thought.

"Stop staring Potter... I'm not going to tell you about how the Sorting Hat nearly put me in Hufflepuff," he said with a smirk, breaking the tension. And Harry laughed… and Draco laughed… and it was truly bizarre.

* * *

**_a/n: I usually don't do this but since a good chunk of this chapter was word for word from the book I'd like you all to know that I DO NOT own Harry Potter, believe it or not._**

**_Thankyou for the reviews everybody! I feel like the quality of this chapter was lacking and more than a little rushed (I'm pretty bad at pacing stories)... but I'm on a roll in terms of updating and didn't feel like doing much more to it. For the record this will not be HarryxDraco or HermionexDraco or any other weird pairing with Draco, so I hope none of you were looking for that. If there's any romance it will be very mild HermionexRon but that's definetly not what this story's about._**

**_And thankyou reidluver for using the phrase "a victim of circumstance" because I loved it and used it in this chapter... so you get all the credit for that._**


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